To Find Yourself
by Aequus
Summary: This is the second time he has lost himself. He found himself once, but now, with no knowledge of who he is, what he is, will he be able to do it again? Rated for later violence possibly brutal, and other mature elements.


**I do not own Naruto. That honor goes to Kishimoto, of course. I do not think I'll be referring to any characters that are of his own creation, as I plan on using only those that I have made, but if I happen to utilize one of his own I will be sure to make a notice of it. I do claim whatever rights I may have over all other characters of my own creation...especially the main one. :ph43r:**

**Chapter 1: Lost?**

There was only the wet, the heavy feeling and the constant thrum in his head. There was nothing else but blackness. He could only tell that he was aware now because he felt the thrum pounding down on him, and all at once his eyes flashed open to the world of dark under a curtain of water. His body's instant reaction was to move, but as he pressed on the earth his hand slipped, face falling full into the grassy mud with mouth open to the stuff. He spat dazedly, only then noticing the sting in his hand and wrist, and the same all along his chest. There was a pounding now in his head, but he could not tell from what.

Questions leaped at him from the darkness, drowning him further under the blasts of rainfall. Where am I? What am I doing here? How did I get here? Why does it hurt? He searched in vain, and gave up in short time when he found he could not get by the ripping ache in his skull. He let out a pitiful moan, trying one more time to move. He pushed past the sudden slicing pain in his wrist, throwing himself up. He flipped himself onto his back, but as he came down upon the earth the blackness rushed in to engulf him, just as he felt the great water beneath come up to swallow.

-----

It was another cold morning, though the cursed winds chose not to ride out today and give the people of Kumo no Kuni any more trouble than they had. Those that lived countryside lives were hard pressed enough to get in food before winter, and the stores they did get had already started dropping out by this time, early spring.

South of Kumogakure, the Village-Hidden-in-Clouds, there is a small waypoint town called Wareme Ikoi, which means "split rest". From that village, two smaller roads continue south into the more dense forests, a main road for any farmers or trackers that live out there to bring up game or crop to Wareme Ikoi for barter. On one of these farms, small and struggling from that harsh winter, there lives a family that would have been like any other, had they not found the man in the river.

The eldest daughter, the oldest child of the three that lived there with parents, was fetching water in that frigid river. She'd already gone out twice before; it was best to get the water early, to let some sit for baths and use the rest for washing and cooking. Though the river was only some hundred feet from the small, squat house, in the cold it was only beneficial to store up on everything.

Yuki was a smart girl, very determined and of a steady mind. She was taller than some women, with dark brown hair that would have flowed over her shoulders had she not always tied it back into a simple bun. Her face was fine, somewhat tanned from her life but undoubtedly beautiful. It was a simplistic, humble beauty, and in that snow-covered land it was alone. She bent down at the river, setting herself in a crouch on the cold stones. She was breathing fast; quick efficiency was needed for this, so she wouldn't too cold to carry it back.

It was then, as she dipped one of the two buckets into the water, that she saw the body out of the corner of her eye. Of course, it turned out that it wasn't a body but a live person, though she did not know that at the time. So shocked that she let her hand slip and plunge into the water, Yuki kept her eyes glued to the man, the urgency of her mission forgotten. He had to be dead. The water was freezing, and there was nowhere he could have gotten in the river for many miles. He had to be dead.

She shook her head, blinking hard to try and clear what she thought was an apparition, a fantasy. She had never been one to dream of fantasies, and when she opened her eyes he was only closer to her. She saw his body, pale as a lifeless body would be. His eyes were closed, one hand seeming to cling to his shirt while the other dragged on the riverbed. Dark hair coiled out behind his floating form. So he was dead, after all. Yuki shook herself, hoisting out the bucket before it became contaminated with the death before her. Of course, her next shock—and decision—made her drop the bucket altogether and the water spilled out, ruining her efforts.

The man breathed. She saw it as only the slightest puff of his chest, one of the bigger breaths to stabilize the many small cycles that a person took. Impulse took over, and she lost any sense of what she was doing. All she knew then was that she was in the freezing water, her simple dark kimono swirling about her stiff legs, arms dragging the man back to the side. She thought she heard a sound, far off, like a call, but it was forgotten in a moment when she got the man out.

Breathing fast, rushed, she put her hands to the man's face, instantly withdrawing them as they met ice. She could do nothing here. She hadn't brought anything for warmth! But wait; she had her cloak. Remembering, she unclasped it. It was not too thick, but it was a garment made of bear's fur, thickly tied together to keep the wind and chill out. She rolled the man into it with a heave, fastening it around him. How she planned to carry him anywhere she didn't know, but she was moving to that point in any case. After a series of unsuccessful heaves, she got him up to her shoulder before she noticed that the call she'd heard earlier was being repeated over and again as it drew louder.

With keen eyes she found her brother in the distance, moving out towards her and calling her name. She'd been gone long, apparently. She only had to wait for her brother now and they could bring this man inside! Yuki's conscience had no time to catch up with her instinct, and neither did her brother's. He let out a startled sound when he saw her trying to carry the man.

"Baka! Why didn't you shout or something!?" His words were quickly spoken as he picked up the man's legs, carrying him with Yuki.

It took little time for them to get close enough to rally their father from the building with a few words. With the help of the muscular man, however old, it was easy to get the man by the fireplace inside the house. Of course, he sent Noboru out to finish Yuki's task.

-----

Voices now filled the darkness. In that dismal place of half-awake thoughts, he knew he would not remember these words when he woke, unless he woke quickly. He could not remember how to wake himself, though. He could not remember anything. He focused on the voices.

"…floating…like ice…" It sounded like a girl, younger. Was she real? She reminded him of someone.

"…maybe…Li's…seven miles…" The suddenness of this deep voice made him eager for the girl to come back, but it seemed reality, or imagination maybe, had given him enough of a taste, and it pulled her voice away from him. It took him to something hot, close. It was pricking at his neck and face. He had the vague knowledge that here was some liquid running over his body, and that was when he began to dream, and dream badly.

He saw himself, floating down that river at night like a piece of trash. He was pale, a dead figure. His entire mind shivered, looking at his freezing body below him in that terrible water. It was night, the moon shining down on him like a beacon, pinning him like a runaway. What was he running from? He got closer to his body of his, staring it straight in closed eyes. Up here he could see the red stuff coating his body through the black suit. He looked up once, to he face, and in sudden surprise fell back as he saw he eyes wide and glaring at him. And then they were both sucked down beneath the dark water.

-----

He woke with a start and a heave of his body, immediately feeling its retaliation at the sudden move in the form of a searing flash through his head. He set himself back down as easily as he could. For a few moments he simply lay there, but his hand felt the gash on his chest and he craned his neck to see. Someone had sewn it. He looked around, only then noticing that he was in a small room, a fire next to him; sweat coating his body as he lay there on the futon.

He tried to sit up again, slower, now noticing the pain in his wrist. There was pain everywhere, really, but that pain was very much lively, as was the ringing drum in his head. He put a hand to his head, feeling no swelled temples. He was not sure where he was, so he chose not to talk. Who had found him? He had been in the river…

His silent question was answered in the form of a tall man, muscled arms full of cut wood, entering through an open cut in the wooden wall. When the man noticed the guest awake he smiled broadly and settled near as he tossed wood in the hungry flames.

"You've been out for a while," he said, to no response but a somewhat tenser guest. "I'm Han. This is my farm. I'm no doctor myself, so you're probably wondering who fixed you up."

Again, there was no answer, and the man shrugged, made a curious hum and stood. "She's not here at the moment, but when she gets in—"

"I'm here! Is he—"a scuttling form came in, stopping when met with those lidded eyes of the stranger. She gave a nervous smile, then came over to stand by her father. He excused himself with a grunt, though he stranger could see him through the doorway.

"I'm Yuki…um…I found you in the river. I thought you had died, but then you breathed…" she continued to ramble for a minute before shaking her head and apologizing. There was a soft silence before she asked the very same question the stranger had been asking himself.

"Who are you?" She had intuitive eyes, but her smile was warm. He had the sudden urge to lie, just to make her happy. Before this little thought could garner any hold on him, he spoke.

"I don't know." The blunt truth of that statement hit him, and all at once he had only one direction: outside. He bolted, ignoring the pain and seeking out the brush of cold air he knew would lead him to the snow. He heard the padding footsteps of the girl, had heard her small shriek, but now he was out. His feet hit the snow like hammers, and he relished the cold; as he sank to his knees, he suddenly noticed he had been bereft of any more clothing than dark boxers.

Hands went down to the slush without a care for that revelation and he brought it up like basin water to his face. They did not bother him, though he knew they were in the doorway. Why had he forgotten who he was? He had to find out again. Now, however, was not the time for interrogating a family he had just been taken in by. He didn't think he was up to it, and he felt the angry throb in his wrist and head as a testament. After a time he felt the rough warmth of the blanket settle over his shoulders and he stood wordlessly to be escorted back inside.

-----

That night he had eaten supper with them, keeping himself as still as possible. He hadn't spoken a word, staring tentatively at his plate and slowly swallowing the smoked fish as if he feared it might jump out to choke him. Too many questions filled his head for him to concentrate on what they were discussing, and while he had the strange sense that it somehow revolved around his presence, he heard—so far as he could remember—no mention of him.

They seemed like a nice family. Han, he would soon discover, was in his forties, older by five years than the tender wife, Yumi. Yuki, the older daughter, was nineteen. Somehow that age made him more aware of her, and while he could understand—to his perplexity—why he might have felt that way he still could not remember how old he was. He figured that was his first clue to his age, at least, though he could be anywhere up to thirty. He had quickly come to grips with his situation; having found out he had a fast intelligence, he figured that his ability to adapt quickly and think just as fast was indicative of some trying life. They were hollow finds, though, with him stuck on a farm in the middle of nowhere. But it wasn't as if he knew where he would go if he decided to leave.

Shen was fifteen, a wiry little monster with a ferocious appetite and an energy that the stranger found amusing, somewhat. He was the most upfront with his early questions, gaining only the smacks of his older sister for being so rude. Yuri was eleven. He found that the triplication of the letter Y for a name was as amusing as Shen's antics. Either the mother had a sense of lasting humor or it was some tradition of naming. She, Yuri, was a cute little girl with fair skin and dark hair like her sister and mother, though being her age was more plump—if only because she had yet to lose her baby fat.

They were a humble family, obviously caring and meaning nothing harmful. This affected him strangely, causing him to lose his appetite and so he set down his sticks, rice untouched. He sat for the rest of the time gazing at his hands.

He could not sleep. The darkness had been to0 vivid before, and he found himself…afraid to go back into it. What if he didn't wake up in the morning? But of course, as it always does, morning came with a light and heat that awoke his unknowingly unconscious form. He found himself at the foot of Yuki who was drawing back shutters to let in the early sun. He did not get up, and she made no move to press him. In fact, she sat down next to his laying form; this was the only thing that really made him, courteously, think of sitting up and so he did.

"What do you remember?" she asked, tilting her head to one side. He caught himself staring at a strand of her hair that had gotten loose from the bun and straightened, tensing.

"I was on a bank…muddy. I don't know when that was."

"There's a family several miles upstream, so…well, if you were past them and floated down in the night I don't think they would have seen you." She gave him a briefly sorrowful look, as if she was worried she'd disappoint him with her lack of help. When he didn't say anything she sighed softly; though he heard it, he was puzzled, knowing it was too soft for anyone to hear. But he'd heard it, definitely.

"Thank you," he said softly.

She nodded slowly, lip curling in thought. Then she beamed and stood up. "You must be hungry! Come on, let's go!" He would have asked something along the lines of where they were going, but was answer a moment later when a big poncho suddenly landed on him.

Outside it was cold as it could be, but he found it soothing and nothing to be complained about. They were gathering water that morning, and it brought to him a sense of foreboding. He would have shuddered, but he held himself and narrowed his eyes at the water instead as he filled the bucket. Yuki didn't notice. The buckets were large and unwieldy, but once she showed him the best way to carry it he caught on quickly and they had no trouble making several trips. He paid a great amount of attention to the landscape around them as they walked. The house was near the edge of a great meadow, some large field of grass the might have spanned half a mile or more. Just beyond the river was a very large hill, covered in thick pine trees. He might have called it a mountain, even. Everything was white.

It was so quiet there.

-----

Breakfast brought more questions from Shen and more smiles from Yuri, and of course, more fabulous, while simple food from Yumi. He realized Han had been fixing something on the roof, and he felt a small pang of guilt at not being well enough yet to help him. This brought about a moment where he ran a hand along the stitched line beneath his woolen shirt.

This breakfast also brought about something else: a name. It was a name for him.

Shen was rambling on about how he fought off three huge wolves last time he went to chop timber, causing Han to chuckle deeply over his rice and the mother to slap his head and boil him with a quick, harsh lecture on lies. He just grinned mischeviously, then turned his eyes on the stranger.

"Well then, I'll take Shinnin with me, and then when I show him their tracks he'll know I'm not lying! You have to believe him!"

The stranger gave Yuki a brief look, one eyebrow raised just slightly. She shrugged just enough for him to notice, masking it as a movement of her fork. The table was small, but the others hadn't noticed. Why had he noticed such a movement, then? He was constantly feeling like an intruder to these people, but it went beyond the simple guiltiness any normal guest might feel, even a normal man picked up from a river. There was something behind it.

When he turned his attention back to the others, he realized Yumi was giving Shen another lecture, now on being rude to guests and how bad mannered it was to call people names.

"But it's not a bad name, it's a real name!"

"Enough, Shen."

Now that he thought about it, the stranger found that Shinnin meant "new". It had an odd ring of truth, and he liked it. He decided to keep it, and held up his hand with a laugh.

"It's fine, really."

That was the time for the classical moment of shock to play out, as they sat there wondering where the sudden enthusiasm—however slight—had come from. Only Yuri was immune, rolling her fish in her rice in the absent-minded playground world of the younger generation. Shen was the one to break the silence with a triumphant, smug bite of his fish.

Shinnin came to understand after the meal just how much water they used in a day, which explained all of the buckets they'd carried before. Washing the dishes was painful in the winter there, and he played his part through insistent persuasion that he must do something to help out around the house. He found no joy in the work, of course, and it didn't feel like any real accomplishment when they were done. It hadn't taken that long, anyways, as they didn't use soap until after the supper.

The porch outside was his haven, to be alone with his thoughts in the sunlight. He breathed deeply, leaning one shoulder against a wooden pillar and looking out over the whiteness.

So far in this past day, he knew that he'd come down the river, from the east, generally. There was another family that lived up that way. With a bit of sifting he remembered something he thought he'd heard Han say…about "Li's" and "seven miles". He must have been talking about the family. He also knew, very easily, that he had amnesia. His frustration had been kept down, but now it boiled just under the surface, and Shinnin found his hand tightening around the wooden pillar that supported the overhanging tiles, above the porch.

He would have pressed harder, trying to alleviate some of the snarling feelings within him, but he heard a crackling noise and turned to his quivering hand. His fingers had gone right into the wood, and his mouth dropped as he pulled the digits free. A noise behind him sent him up onto the rail and flipping dexterously over onto the tile roof above. Shock was the only thing waiting for him, when he realized what he'd just done.

Forget about who he was. _What_ was he? He knew his reaction had been foolish, and his head dropped with a groan of regret when he heard a giggle from below.

"Um…Shinnin?" It was Yuki's voice; he could hear the laughter beneath it, the smile in her words. "Aren't you here?"

For a moment he was silent, hitting himself in the head. "Yes, up here." Creaking and scuttling followed these words, and a moment later he was face to face with Yuki, who had just popped her head up over the side of the roof. Both of their eyes were wide, and she giggled. In the second truly courteous act he had performed, Shinnin helped her up onto the snowy tiles. Neither had a blanket or ponchos, but it didn't seem to matter.

"Why did you pull me out?" He asked the words suddenly, catching a snowflake on his nose a moment later as she smiled.

"I don't know. I was fetching water," she explained. He nodded, having figured that was the situation. "I saw you coming…didn't I tell you I thought you were dead? And you took a breath? Yes, yes…"

"I know that much. I wondered what might have happened if you hadn't gotten me."

She looked a bit flushed now, playing with the hem of her kimono. "I-I don't think you'd…well, there's not another family for as many miles as the Li's…"

He nodded grimly, squinting against the brightness. There was a long time when neither of them spoke, just watching the snow fall in light tufts. Then she leaned closer, smiling wide. "Come on!" she said with a laugh. "We have games, and today is for breaks. Do you know how to play Go?"

Shinnin tensed. His entire back went rigid, and his eyes widened even as his lips thinned. Why did that sound so familiar!!? He knew she must have been referring to the game, but by now he figured his body reacted this way unconsciously to anything he knew. It was the _where_ he needed to know now. She seemed to have lost some of her energy, hand poised hesitantly between them, as if she was deciding whether or not to reach out.

He swallowed dryly, showing a quick smile. "Sorry. Um…Go. Well, if I do know, I wouldn't remember that, now would I?" he asked, chuckling. His words affected her slowly, but then her smile grew back and she hummed satisfaction, climbing back over the edge.

He followed her, pausing once at the edge to look out over the whiteness again. There was an addition to the place, a sense that this place held the first clue to what he needed to know: who he was. So many questions, and the first of them would be found through these people. He wasn't sure how he knew that, but he was sure that it was true, as sure as he knew his headaches would never stop and the scar on his chest would never heal.

With a flickering grin, he checked that thought, batting it with the fact that his wrist wasn't even broken. "Wuss," he whispered, blowing away a big tuft of flakes before swinging down over the edge. He was greeted by the roar of a challenging Shen, and he walked inside to meet it.


End file.
